“You will lead these knights beyond my lands, to the place men call Solamnia.” This time the words were audible, for the benefit of the knights waiting behind Rurak. MI will know what is transpiring there, and I will gain that knowledge through you. You and your men will travel from village to village and mingle with those in authority. You will discover where Ansalon’s refugees are flocking to, learn who is inciting the populace to oppose the dragon overlords and the Knights of Takhisis, and you will ferret out those who might become my allies.”
“As you wish,” he replied.
“Seek people who are healthy and clever, with darkness in their spirits. I might be able to put them to good use. Humans only. I will direct you where to deliver them.”
“I understand, Malystryx.” Rurak risked a glance down at the scale. It was blood-red and shiny, but no longer glowing. He felt around the edges, his fingers slipping between the small gap between skin and scale. “Am I to always wear this?” he braved asking.
“You can never take it off—not without dying in the process.”
Rurak Gistere nodded to the dragon and set about donning his armor again. He took a last look into her huge eyes, saw his reflection in them, then pivoted and directed his men down the mountain.
Malys eased her head over the edge of the plateau and watched the Knights of Takhisis wend their way back down the path. She couldn’t see Rurak, but she knew he was in the lead. She knew everything he did because now she could see through his eyes. She could see that no one was walking in front of him. She could see the rocks he stepped around, the streams of lava he effortlessly jumped across.
Malys purred with satisfaction, closed her eyes, and pictured something cold.
There was nothing but sparkling white land in all directions—from the once scrub-covered plains and grasslands of the coasts to the eastern slope of the imposing range that cut through the length of Southern Ergoth. Icy winds swept across the terrain, stirring the snow into drifts, constantly-shifting patterns, and ever-thickening banks. Other than the far western part of the country, Southern Ergoth had become a veritable iceberg.
Its foul-tempered master—the dragon overlord Gellidus, called Frost by men—sat at the edge of a small frozen lake. Except for his eyes, pools of pale blue-green, the dragon was as white as everything else in his domain. Occasionally his scales gleamed here and there with silvery-azure streaks—a reflection of the sky that sometimes appeared through gaps in the cloud cover.
The majestic dragon was completely still, his eyes unblinking, his wings tightly tucked into his sides, and his tail curled around his haunches. His crown, a scaly fringe that swept gracefully back from his massive frosty jowls, sparkled as did the five tapering horns like inverted icicles that grew upward from the fringe.
Gellidus stared at the lake and filled his lungs with the blessed frigid air. He released it all in a single blast, blowing away the snow from the top of the frozen water.
The newly revealed ice shimmered and sparkled, and seemed to flow for an instant, as if it were melting. Then it brightened, turning a pale pink, as it did when it reflected the dawning sun on days when the clouds weren’t so thick. But it was the middle of the day. and the ice was several inches thick—in no danger of melting. The pink blossomed into a radiant orange glow, then became a warm vermillion, the shade of dying embers. Finally it turned an intense blood red, and the visage of Malystryx came into focus.
Gellidus stared at the magical image of the massive dragon with rapt attention, then lowered his head. The Red stared back at him across the hundreds of miles.
Your answer? Malystryx prompted.
Gellidus heard the words inside of his head; it was part of the magic the monstrous dragon used in her communication spell. At roughly five hundred feet long, she was twice his size, and she could squash him without a considerable amount of effort. Her fire could easily melt the ice of his domain. When the steam dissipated, his corpse would be found, twisted and burnt, on the plains.
“I will ally myself with you, Malys,” Gellidus said. His voice was sonorous and haunting like the frigid wind that whistled through his land’s valleys. But it was not so commanding as the Red’s. “I will work with you. I will not oppose you.”
Malys curled back her lips in the approximation of a smile, and a rumble resonated inside the white’s head. The Red sounded pleased. Flames danced amongst teeth that were as white as Gellidus’s hide and rose up around her head like a wreath.
The white dragon continued. “And I would deign to be your consort, Malys.”
The Red nodded. Accepted, Gellidus. Together we will make Ansalon tremble. My plans are already in motion, and soon I win tell you what magnificent role you will play in all of this.
“I am honored,” the white dragon answered. “We will meet?”
Soon, she silkily replied. On the Plains of Dust in the realm called Duntollik.
“Neutral territory” he said. “You are most wise.” Then he felt her mind slip away from his, and watched the red glow on the frozen lake’s surface turn to orange then to a rosy pink. Within moments, the ice was milky white again, and the soothing dull wind was blowing snow across its slick surface.
Gellidus raged at kowtowing to any dragon. He was an overlord, and he ruled Southern Ergoth unchallenged. The continent of the Kagonesti elves was a temperate land when he first came upon it There were vast stretches of ice-covered lands he could have more easily claimed, but only a smattering of ice barbarians lived in those lands, and Gellidus felt a need to rule over a larger population. Since securing Southern Ergoth nearly two decades ago, he had worked to change the climate and much of the terrain to suit his icy, austere tastes. He was quick to take control of Daltigoth, the once-great capital And he was quick to turn it over to the ogres— after plundering the city’s riches. Foghaven Vale fell too, and with it the legendary resting place of Huma, hero of the Third Dragon War.
The ogres of the land were Gellidus’s to command. They offered the dragon their loyalty and service in exchange for their worthless lives and some small amount of power. Groups of thanoi—grotesque walrus-men—also served him. Gellidus had captured the thanoi from the southern Plains of Dust and brought them here to use as guards and messengers.
Most of the Kagonesti, the wild elves who once ranged across the island continent, had fled more than a decade ago. But some remained on the western part of the dragon’s realm, beyond the Last Gaard Mountains. Though the climate was harsh and the wind bitter, they were relatively free of the dragon’s influence there. It wasn’t that Gellidus was too lazy to conquer that part of the continent, though the overlord admittedly led a largely sedentary life. The White simply decided to leave a safe haven for people. It would give him something to watch, to study, and a place to terrorize later when he grew too bored.
Gellidus rose on his stubby legs and uncurled his tail. It stretched dozens of feet behind him, ending in a flattened fin-like ridge. He worked the kinks out of his thick neck, then stared at the frozen lake for a moment before thrusting his front claws through the ice and into the freezing water below. The rest of his body quickly followed, embraced by the welcome glacial coldness.
The White was not Malys’s first consort That distinction belonged to Khellendros, the Storm Over Krynn, who was occupying her thoughts now.
“Khellendros uses knights,” Malys hissed to herself. “Though not so aptly and cleverly as I.” The Red’s thoughts often drifted to the Blue who claimed the Northern Wastes and the city of Palanthas. She considered him the most astute and powerful of those beneath her.